The Dog House (Harding's World of Romance) (10 page)

“And in these other things you are able to be frivolous?” he persisted.
“Able to take things lightly and to be spontaneous and laugh without analysing and arguing and writing theses about them?”

“Of course,” she said crossly.

His eyes took on a mischievous glint. “In that case,” he said with a certain relish, “Allow me.”

In a fluid movement he stood up and leaned across the table, his eyes locked on hers as he took her cheeks in his hands and kissed her firmly on the lips. She was so taken aback that her jaw went slack, allowing him to deepen the kiss until she found herself responding.

He broke away and sat back down, grinning broadly. “No need to analyse,” he warned her. “That was just something I’ve been itching to do for a while. So don’t look so serious. Wasn’t that enjoyable?”

There was still something dangerous and tantalising in his eyes, in the proximity of that handsome face so close to hers.

“I have to go to the loo,” she announced, blatantly fleeing the room.

Chapter Six

Fiona stared out into the gathering darkness as the taxi sped her up the lonely Glen Murray road. It was after eleven but the sky was still light enough to see the shapes of the hills and the silhouettes of the tossing trees along the roadside.

There had been a logistical error in her planning. Because she didn’t want Colin to know where she lived, she couldn’t catch a ride back with him as far as the cottage, and she was in no shape to drive. So she had lied to him in
Braeport, insisting that she walk home alone, and now had to pay her own cab fare all the way back to Glen Murray.

Her thoughts were muddled. It wasn’t just the beer, and then the wine at the up
-market wine bar he had taken her to after their dinner. Her mind kept returning to the kiss, trying to analyse what it had made her feel, despite Colin’s orders not to think about it.

There had been no further discussion of the kiss.
Flustered, she had retreated to the bathroom until she regained composure, surprised by her own reaction. Had it been truly unwelcome, she would easily have slapped him away, but she had enjoyed the kiss and found it strangely seductive in its unexpected, uninvited way. Of course he was just testing her and teasing, not serious, but it was a kiss that left her wanting more.

It had simply been too long, she told herself firmly in the cab, and he was highly attractive. An
d by now it wasn’t as if he was a total stranger; over the evening he had grown easier to talk to and, although they weren’t exactly old chums, she was beginning to feel as if they had at least been fencing partners for a while.

When she had returned to the table, he had ordered a bottle of red wine which was waiting. He watched her in his amused, friendly way. “I took the liberty of ordering the wine,” he informed her, as if
nothing had happened. “I thought it was safest, in case you felt obliged to order the cheapest plonk on the menu or, even worse, in case you ordered the English wine. They do serve it here, you know.”

And then he had launched into
another conversation, with no awkwardness at all. Fiona was surprised and relieved by his ability to gloss over the kiss, making it easier for her to start to relax. Between the effect of the wine and Colin’s unwavering charm, she began to feel almost comfortable in his company, particularly by the time they had moved on to a wine bar down the road.

Thinking back on it,
she had to admit to herself that she had enjoyed the evening more than she had in ages. Colin made her laugh and feel present, finally remembering what it was to go out and have fun. He remained droll, easy company, sometimes gently provocative and sometimes charming, and always seemed focused on her, oblivious to anyone else present.

At the end of the evening, as they left the wine bar, she had half-expected another kiss, but he acted the perfect gentleman, offering her a ride home and expressing concern when she insisted on walking, but respecting her wishes.

“When can I see you again?” he had asked and Fiona had felt a rush of pleasure, glad that he had enjoyed his evening as much as she had.

Still she found herself hesitating, not comfortable with the idea of letting him choose the next dinner date. She needed neutral ground.

“Well, I need to go for a walk in a little valley that Campbell describes,” she said uncertainly. “I thought I might make an afternoon of it and bring a picnic. Does that hold any appeal to you or is it too rustic?”

He had grinned at her and she was grateful that he hid any misgivings, if he had them. There was a lot to be said for upper-class manners.

“I thought that I had proved myself worthy on your history walk,” he told her. “Of course I’d be delighted to join you. Should I prepare myself mentally for an afternoon with most of the Historical Society or can I expect some of your highly-directional attention?”

She had smiled with relief, set up a meeting point and walked away quickly, her mind still spinning with the events of the evening. Even now, in the taxi, she took pleasure in reliving their hours together. She had mixed feelings about how the evening had ended, although it was the wisest course. She wasn’t sure that she actually could be frivolous enough to be a rich man’s fling or social experiment, but she was fairly sure that if he had tried again she wouldn’t have resisted, no matter how far he wanted to take it.

Besides, her worries about his motives were disappearing. He seemed like a genuinely nice man, not the sort to be using her as some sort of joke or attempt at slumming it. She was surprised at her growing attraction to him, as she was not normally attracted to “nice”, which was the sort of adjective that usually condemned a guy to being your drinking buddy at best. She liked men with a dangerous edge and drive, but looking back now at Cormac and the few other relationships worth remembering, they may have been fighters but they had also turned out to be hard and cold in the end.

Colin was the opposite, warm and friendly and genuine, not trying to hurt her or put her in her place.
Charming, indeed.

“Stop here,” she told the driver as the lights of the Glen Murray Inn appeared. She could see Sarah’s car in the car park and she suddenly felt the need for the uncomplicated affection of her dog and the comfort of his warm body sleeping against her feet.

“Are you sure, Miss?” the cab driver asked solicitously. “We’ve passed closing time and you’re a long walk still from your destination.”

“Positive,” she said firmly, emptying her wallet to pay the man before stepping out into the almost-empty parking lot.

The front door was already locked but she could see her friend through the window, polishing the bar and putting bar stools up on tables. Fiona hammered on the window, saw Sarah jump and was let inside.

“I thought you would be well on your way to silk sheets and a four-poster bed,” her friend said reproachfully. “Didn’t it go well? How is our man Colin when you’re one-on-one?”

“Charming,” Fiona admitted, blushing slightly.

“And sexy,” Sarah prodded.

“Yes, that too,” Fiona grinned.

“So?”

“So he’s coming out for a walk with me this week. Now where’s my dog?”

As they entered the bar, she could hear the happy thumping sound of Livingstone’s tail on the carpet and soon he was bounding up to her, his oversized head banging into her leg. She stooped to give him a hug, caressing his head and letting him nuzzle her. Sarah continued to move chairs, waiting patiently to hear more of the story.

“A walk?” Sarah asked after a moment. “Isn’t that a step down from a dinner date? Or do you think he’s the sort to enjoy a roll in the heather?”

“Sarah!”
Fiona reprimanded her, laughing. Then the smile disappeared from her lips. “That means I won’t be able to take Livingstone,” she realised, thinking out loud. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“You know you can always leave him with me,” her friend reminded her. “That’s not a problem.”

“It’s not fair to Livingstone,” Fiona mumbled, burying her face in his hair. “He absolutely loves those walks. Don’t worry, you overgrown puppy, you were in my life before Colin and you get priority. It’s just this one time, okay?”

“That’s what you said before tonight,” Sarah pointed out. “So you didn’t run out of things to talk about?”

“Not yet,” Fiona admitted. “In fact, the time just sped by. He’s fun company.”

“You’re starting to like him,” the barmaid teased.
“Overcoming your class consciousness?”

“He’s different than I thought,”
Fiona said, blushing as the memory of his audacious kiss sprang unbidden to mind.

Sarah saw the emotion cross her face. “He kissed you, didn’t he?” she demanded, leaving the chairs and approaching Fiona. “Did he?”

“Just quickly,”
Fiona told her. “I think to provoke me, really. It wasn’t even a goodnight kiss, just to prove something about not taking things so seriously.”

Sarah seemed as imperviou
s as Fiona to Colin’s injunction of not analysing it. “It’s never just a kiss, no matter what Humphrey Bogart may say,” she said excitedly. “Obviously he likes you more than just as a historian. You have to bring him round so I can meet him too.”

Fiona
looked fondly at her friend. “I’ll suggest it after our walk,” she promised. “But he isn’t Hugh Grant, despite the looks.”

Sarah smiled. “He’s not that far off,” she said. “And he is our local celebrity. It would be fun to
get to know him.”

Fiona
pursed her lips. “It is,” she admitted. “Now, any chance of a lift home?”

Colin and Aiken strode purposefully along the golf course to catch up with Bridget and Emma, who were waiting under a clump of poplar trees. The beautiful but short summer was already drawing to an end, with the first hints of yellow showing in the leaves while the hills above took on the rusty colour of burnt heather.

“I can’t believe I’ll be heading back to London
so soon,” Emma sighed loudly as the men approached. “I had no idea that Scottish summers could be so lovely.”

“You were lucky with the weather,” Aiken said with a grin. “It could equally have been rain showers and midges the whole time, you know.”

“The weather isn’t the only thing I’ll miss when I go back, Rabbie,” she continued in a softer, coquettish voice.

Aiken looked at Colin with a plea for help in his eyes.

“Well, all summers must come to an end,” Colin tried in a philosophical voice, looking for something to change the conversation topic. Aiken tried his best never to be entangled in anything that could remotely be construed as a proper relationship, but he was too soft-hearted to spell it out clearly to the women concerned.

Aiken was still waiting for rescue, so Colin looked around, smiling as he noticed the distinctive leaves of a non-descript yellow flower growing near the base of the trees. “Oh,
look, lady’s mantle,” he pointed out, indicating a group of plants. “Did you know that the Latin name comes from alchemy, because alchemists used to think that the dew that gathered in the leaves was the elixir of life.”

Three pairs of eyes stared at him blankly. He sighed. “Just thought we could all do with our share, summer flying by and autumn approaching…”

Bridget stared at him dolefully. “You’ve been spending too much time with that history woman,” she accused.

“And botanists too, it seems,” Emma added, sounding scandalised.

“Actually, she is well-versed in all things Scottish, whether flowers, history or plants,” he said, trying not to sound defensive. “And it’s only been one dinner. But she knows just the sorts of things I should know to run the Trust, after all.”

“Then you’d need her accent, too,” Bridget said scornfully, trying to imitate a working-class Scot. “I really don’t see what interest she holds.”

“She has her own opinions on things,” Colin said staunchly. “She doesn’t seem to care what other people think. It’s quite refreshing.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Rude, you mean.”

“Never boring,” he shot back.

“Not boring, but boorish,” Aiken laughed. “Sounds like my cousin Graham. He didn’t care what people thought and managed to alienate half of society.”

“Is this why you’ve been a bit distracted lately?” Bridget asked sulkily. “Is it because of her?”

“Distracted?” Colin repeated in surprise. “I didn’t realise that I was. But it may be because my parents are threatening to come up for a visit. The old man wants to check on my behaviour, I think.”

That seemed to appease the women, but Aiken stayed close back with him as they advanced up the links.

“You’re getting quite smitten with this writer girl, aren’t you?” he asked quietly, in worried tones.

“Yes, I suppose I am,” Colin said mildly. “We’ve only seen each other a few times, but I’d like to see her again.”

He waited for the inevitable teasing, but instead Aiken sounded concerned. “But you aren’t getting serious, are you?
This is just a passing fancy, right?”